The Lost Child of Rohan
by Gypsy3
Summary: An assassin from a different world lands in Middle Earth through means not of her own. Can she fulfill the destiny laid before her or will the darkness in which she lived her life reclaim her?
1. Default Chapter

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Title: The Lost Child of Rohan  
**Author:** Gypsy  
**Rating:** **MA**   
**Disclaimer:** Don't own the Tolkein characters, nor do I make any money off of this. They're just playtoys in the vast and scary place that is my imagination. No infringement is intended. Original characters, however, are the property of the author. So this means you can't sue me!! Unless you want my car payment, collection of river rocks, unique goblets and my clones... who only mind me... some of the time… OH and the wrath of a bloodthirsty war-bitch sicced on you…   
**Special Warnings: **Het, Violence, Character Death, Mention of Rape  
**Beta: **Many thanks to my Beta, Beverly!!! She took the time to read through it, give me some suggestions and keep me on the straight and narrow as to dialect, speech pattern and 'feel'. Thanks again!!  
**Cast:** Gandalf, Éomer, Arwen, Aragorn, Haldir, Gamling, Haleth, the people of Edoras and my OCs - neither one are Mary Sue types… nope, definitely NOT a Mary Sue. ~L~  
**Timeline: **After the War of the Ring and before the last exodus to the Gray Havens.  
**Author's Note:** Everyone repeat after me: HALDIR IS NOT DEAD. He did not truly appear at Helm's Deep and therefore cannot be dead.

I want to say Thanks to Michelle, my fellow Éomer luster. This went from a little smut fic into a full blown story at the prodding of Charlene who hinted that I might tease Michelle with a truly… ah, what did she call it… OH YES!! An 'Éomer is God' moment. ~L~ Hopefully there are a few of them in here that will make her feel gooey… Goddess knows there's a few for me. ~pants and squirms~ 

My copy of TTT is worn out and I think if I hit 'Play' one more time, my DVD Player will spit it back out at me. As such, I'd also like to thank Blockbuster.com for reminding me that my pre-order of TTT:EE is still on order and will be delivered ANY DAY NOW!!! SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

I'm going to say the story follows the movies more than the books themselves. However, I tried to keep in the flow of Tolkein's 'feel', and as such, I want to thank Miss Rizzo for her insight into shaggin' it Middle Earth style ~LOL~ Your little tidbit of info came in handy for someone who's never read the books.

Now, one more time, repeat after me: HALDIR IS NOT DEAD!

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Spoilers: None   
**Summary: **An assassin from a different world lands in Middle Earth through means not of her own. Can she fulfill the destiny laid before her or will the darkness in which she lived her life reclaim her? 

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Clear blue eyes watched from the shadows, waiting for his moment. He had been tracking her for months. Every time he drew near enough, she was gone and his quest would begin anew. Such had been the way ever since he had come for her years ago. At that time he had discovered her gone, missing amidst a sea of darkness and evil. The nature of the darkness that had taken her in wasn't as violent as Sauron's, but it was just as malicious. In return she had become just as malicious in her misled and misguided 'education'. This Rohirrim that he sought to return home had become a thing to be feared, her name whispered in fear within the very same shadows she called sanctuary.

A slight flicker of motion caught his attention, he turned his head beneath the gray Elven cloak to see where it went. Tonight, he would confront her and lay her destiny before her. Then it would be her choice to follow it or ignore it. Given what he'd seen in the multiple wakes of her departures, she would readily take the path he offered and would not look back. She was ready to stop running. The flicker of movement within the shadows blurred into his vision again and he moved towards it.

A door opened, and then closed softly just ahead of him. With quickness not possible for a man as old as he appeared to be, Gandalf reached the door she had slithered behind and silently pulled it open. 'Into the mouth of the demon', he mused silently as he entered the inky blackness of what the people of this world called a warehouse. She had made her home in this place for days now. However, she would fly again as her pursuers had once again caught up with her. They would be here before daybreak. It was tonight that she must go, or she would be dead by sunrise.

Slowly he crept along the darkened walls, avoiding the feeble light of the full moon. He could not risk frightening her or startling her into a defensive mode. Her trust had to be gained first. Step by step he climbed the stairs, pausing only when he saw her standing in the shadows of a brightly illuminated patch of moonlight from the window high above her. For a moment, he regarded her appearance and finally appreciated just why she would be regarded in fear. She could not be much taller than Eowyn, roughly five and a half feet if he head to estimate, but it was difficult to determine. Her black cloak of what appeared to be an unrefined cloth flowed about her smoothly, the inky color and rough texture of it was perfect for disappearing into the shadows of the night. The hood was drawn up over her head, but he knew that the golden hair of the Rohirrim framed an oval face with brown eyes the shade of topaz. He had seen her once before and the color of her eyes remained with him through out his journeys. It was those strangely colored eyes that had guided him person after person in his search until he realized that she had kept her identity hidden, concealed by her hood. He knew she was well armed, two strange swords at her waist and a dagger at her thigh, they both remained hidden, along with other weapons, he was sure he didn't know about. Somewhere within reach there was also a wooden staff wrapped with leather that she was proficient with. If weapons failed her, her hands and feet could be considered deadly. He must approach with caution.

She heard the steps behind her and waited. So this was it, her time was over. They had found her. What else did she expect from the elite unit she had betrayed? Her hands rested on the grip of a sword - one of two called katanas made by the people of the East. In her training, she had learned a great deal of the form of these Eastern Peoples including their fighting style and weapons. In addition to their swords, she also used their steel throwing needles and their hand-to-hand combat techniques. Even the method of wearing the swords echoed of the ancient Easterners, a sash of black silk wrapped numerous times around her waist and held the scabbard of one sword down her left thigh at an angle - while the second lay slightly on top of it and to the side, the angle less severe. At other times the swords rested against her back next to her staff to make traveling easier

"Come out of the Shadows, old man," she said clearly.

He straightened up and ventured one step out. "You have excellent skill of hearing if you heard my footfall."

"I've been listening to your steps for some months now. Tonight, I decided it was time to finish it."

Despite his wizarding skills, she still got the drop on him. With a slight scuff of her boots on the hard stone floor and a hiss of air as her sword was freed from its scabbard, she wheeled around on him and brought the razor keen edge of the blade across his chest. He only managed to bring his staff up in time to fend off the blow. In answer, he brought the butt end of his staff up to strike her wrist and dislodge the sword from her hand. The blade somersaulted tip over pommel into the air over her head, only to be caught easily and smoothly in her other hand. As her free hand flew at his jaw to stopped a scant hair's width from his jaw, he said: "I did not come here to harm you. I'm here to help you."

Angel stood still, her blade held upright in her left hand and out to the side as she watched him. She knew he could not see her face as it remained covered in the hood of her cloak and the lift of her eyebrows in surprise would be well hidden. She did not quite know what to make of him. For someone who looked to be so old, he was agile and quick, very proficient with his staff. There were too few who could get the advantage over her or perhaps she was letting her guard down a little. "You cannot help me, old man. No one can."

"There, I think you are wrong. I know this is a great request for you to listen to what I have to say, but I ask it of you nonetheless. Please, Angel, listen to what I have to say before you run again." He watched her lips a moment, the only thing now visible beneath the hood.

She watched him for a moment, one corner of her lips quirking up into what might be considered a smile. "And why should I?" She flipped the sword up and into her right hand, the motion was fluid and gentle as she sheathed the sword. To most, it appeared graceful and elegant. To her, it was the only way to handle such blades as these. When she did, the air sang with them and it was a fine sound to her ears. Sliding her hands beneath the cloak again, she felt it's familiar weight settle about her chest and shoulders. "Give me one good reason why I should listen to you." Angel turned her back on him, her ears listening for the slightest motion of aggression even as her hand curled around one of her steel throwing needles.

Gandalf took in a deep breath and stood up straight as if to stretch old and aching bones. "Your world has changed. For so long you lived in the shadows, honing your skills on the helpless and innocent. Now, you are the hunted one, Angel." He stepped closer to her, gathering his robes over his arm as he leaned closer to her. "I can take you to a place where they will not find you."

She snorted, shaking her head as if to say he was mad. He was too close. She felt trapped by his presence. Taking a step back from him, she asked: "You would help me? Why? You do know that those who shelter me are considered the enemy? If they find you, if they find out you and I was in the same room together, they will capture you and torture you until you tell them what they want to know. If they even think that you helped me to elude them, they will prolong the punishment until you beg for mercy. Old man," she turned to face him, a slight smirk on her face, "there are worse things than death – and the people who hunt me know what they are."

"I do not fear them, Angel, they cannot touch me." He had to get through to her, had to make her see that there was another alternative: to go where he wanted to send her. His clear blue eyes watched as she snorted and stepped past him. It was time to press his luck and see if she would reconsider. "You are a woman disassociated from what you think you know and find yourself lost no matter where you call home. In truth you are not at home. To this end, you must go to the Land of the Horse-Lords. In this land of Rohan, you will find that you are needed. But you will also find peace, spirit, and love."

Angel looked over her shoulder at the old man and snorted softly. Turning to face him, she held his eyes for a moment before shaking her head. "I do not need peace, spirit or love. I need to survive." She looked down, trying not to think of the unthinkable. "I need to be left alone."

"In Rohan you can find that solitude, Angel." Gandalf stepped closer to her. "In Rohan you will not be touched by the evil of this world you live in." At the still mutinous curl of her mouth, he sighed and eased his stance a bit. Perhaps he'd come to her too late to change the course of her fate. If he'd not found her when he did, she'd have been killed and the future of Rohan could be in peril. Knowing Rohan's fate if she did not go stiffened his resolve to search her out, and return her to her birthright. "Trust in me. Though you have no true reason to. There are things at work here that you do not understand. But know that you will be safe there from The Unforgiven. They cannot touch you in Rohan."

She stiffened at his mention of her pursuers. How did he know their name? What else did he know about that he was not telling her? More questions plagued her mind as she turned from him, her eyes still holding his for moments as she passed by him. The life that she was living since her epiphany, what of it? She couldn't sleep, she couldn't stop, she couldn't ever relax and she knew she could never trust anyone again. So why did she trust him without explanation? It seemed inherent that she should have this feeling of confidence and trust. It confused her.

Her head turned back towards him for a moment and Gandalf could sense her confusion. His heart went out to her. He knew of her flight, her life and her years that had been lost to the evil that had corrupted the world in which she lived. She would carry that shadow with her forever and be haunted by what she had done. He was offering her a chance at a new life, a chance to repay some of the debts she'd created. "You know they will never stop," he said softly as he stepped closer to her. He reached her side easily for she didn't move away from him. She turned her head again to him as he stood at her side facing her. This close he could see her face within the hood, see the confusion on her face and the flicker of doubt in her eyes. "They will never leave you alone. In Rohan you have a fighting chance at life and perhaps forgiveness. I cannot undo what has been done to you and by your hands. However, I can offer you the opportunity to change your fate. You are needed."

Angel turned to look at him. She wanted desperately to believe that she could change her future. The eyes of the child haunted her each time she closed her eyes and reminded her of the nightmare she'd become. Could she possibly ever find forgiveness for what atrocities she'd committed in life? "Why? Why do these people of Rohan need me?"

"Because of your skills. I cannot tell you more than that or I run the risk of altering fate. But rest assured that you are needed, both in skill and in spirit. Everything will be revealed to you in it's own due time." He looked over his shoulder at the sudden noise outside of the empty warehouse loft. "Time is short, yes or no Angel." Gandalf turned back to nothingness. She was there, but he couldn't see her in the shadows.

When he'd turned at the noise, she slithered back into the safety of the shadows. It might be a stray cat, or it might be an Unforgiven who'd succeeded in finding her. Right now she just did not know. However, her mother's voice whispered in her ears as she quickly weighed the pro and con of his ultimatum. 'Sometimes Life gives you a second chance.' Perhaps this was the second chance she'd prayed for. She'd never know if she didn't take the risk. What could be worse than death after the life she'd just lead? Shouldering her pack onto her left shoulder, she gripped the wooden staff in her hand and took a deep breath. "Yes."

"Good. Now, stand still, this won't hurt you at all. If all goes well, you will step through the portal and arrive in the land of Rohan. Travel south until you encounter mountains. It will be night there. I know you prefer the comfort of your shadows and can move about more easily. Seek the Capitol City of Edoras and a man named Éomer. Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be. Look…" she stepped out and tentatively reached for him, but thought better of it and lowered her hand. "Thank you. I do not know who you are or what I've done to deserve a second chance, but…"

"I am merely completing what was started so long ago. Take a deep breath and prepare yourself." He stepped back from her and raised his staff towards the open space before them both. His eyes closed and he began the low words of a chant. The air began to move, debris and clothing both stirring in the currents as it twisted around a core of bright light. Within moments, a rift in thin air opened. "You might be disoriented, but it will pass in moments once you are on the other side." 

Angel took a step towards the portal when another noise drew her attention. She whirled around to see two forms leaping out of the shadows at her and the old man. One caught her about the abdomen and catapulted the both of them through the portal.

The second had caught Gandalf by surprise, knocking him into a wall. The body bounced back lightly, bobbing on the balls of her feet as she spun around and headed towards the portal. "NO!" he shouted, his staff aimed directly for the woman. A bright light shot out of the tip and hit her directly between the shoulders. He had to keep her occupied until the portal closed. It would not be long, but if he failed, then this one would also follow her through. He could not allow that to happen. "Leave her alone!" he commanded, his voice taking on an aura of power as he stood up straighter and discarded his robes. "I will not allow you to touch her, nor will I allow you to alter the course of the future!"

The woman merely laughed and flipped up onto her hands and feet before springing towards the fading portal like a cat pouncing on its prey. "You will not allow it? She's a traitor old man!" she hissed icily. "She will know the pain of what she's done and she will repent!" She made it through the portal before Gandalf could stop her. The tip of Glamdring ripped the cloak she wore as she ran past.

Gandalf sighed as she, along with the portal, disappeared. All three were transported by the magic of the Istari to Middle Earth. With any luck, Angel would embrace the path laid before her years ago when he brought her and her mother to this forsaken land. And, with the grace of the Valar, these two assassins sent to hunt her down would fail in their tasks. He would have to make haste for Rohan.


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimers - See Chapter One for all pertinent info

A/N - If you find mistakes in this publication, please consider that they are there for a purpose. I publish something for everyone… and some people are always looking for mistakes.

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Both Angel and her attacker landed on the ground beneath them with a bone-jarring thud. The instinct and training kicked in and she flipped her attacker over her head. Using the momentum, Angel flipped up onto her feet and spun around. Her opponent too had recovered and was on his feet. She studied him a moment as he assessed her in return. For a moment she could see the flicker of fear in his eyes. He knew of The SwordDancer it seemed. Unfortunately, time was not with her. Kali had been with him and she would follow him through the portal. "I am sorry," she whispered as both hands shot up, wrists snapping fluidly as little slivers of metal sped at his throat.

A gurgling sound was heard as the throwing needles found home in the soft tissue of his throat. The blood of the wound poured into his esophagus, choking him instantly. Within moments of his attack, the young man lay dead on the ground as Angel now knelt over him. One by one she retrieved the needles and secreted them away on her person for another time. Kali would be near, if she followed through the portal. Deep inside she knew that the old man was dead, another life taken, another death on her hands. Taking in a deep breath, she dragged the body under an outcropping of rocks and turned in the direction she believed south to be.

Unfortunately, she really had no way or knowing which direction was south. The full moon was high overhead, more than likely midnight if she had to guess at a time. The only real way of telling was to wait and see which direction the moon drifted, then turn south from there. But, she did not feel particularly comfortable standing in the open bathed in moonlight for anyone to see - especially if Kali had followed her. Another quick survey of the land revealed an outcropping of boulders not too far away. It might be safe enough to wait out the moon's travels. After all, the old man did not say she had to rush to this city of Edoras. One night would not make too distinct a difference.

Shouldering her pack again, she set off for the outcropping at a steady pace. However, she had traveled no more than a few yards when she heard a slight thunder in the distance. But that was not thunder, it was too steady and too rhythmic to be the brewing of a storm. The sky was clear and the wind was still save for the occasional flutter. No… something approached. Standing stock still for a moment, Angel listened with a keen ear for the direction that the noise came. It was growing louder, the ground under her feet trembling as it came closer. What the hell was that? She turned around, facing the direction she had just come from … that was the direction the rumble approached from.

Too soon Angel had her answer. A horse and rider appeared from the far edge, soon followed by more. A quick calculation put the number at no more than fifteen to twenty, but they were moving too fast and too close together for her to get an accurate account. The people riding the horses wore armor and armed with spears, with some carried banners, all of them took notice of her, slowing down and reining in their horses circling her in. She did not move, did not give them reason to be wary of her. The spear tips lowered and the ring of horses closed in tightly around her. This was not going well so far. In a gesture of good faith, she slowly leaned her staff against her shoulder and raised her hands to plain view so that they might see she was not preparing for a strike against them.

Éomer watched the woman from his horse. The clear and silver light from the full moon overhead allowed him to see her as if the sun was at it's highest. The Rohirrim surrounded her yet she remained calm and collected even as the points of twenty spears leveled at her heart. The only thing to give him pause in confronting her was the two swords sashed to her waist and the dagger strapped to her thigh. This woman was not of Rohan, nor was she of Gondor. That knowledge was certain in his mind as he dismounted and motioned for the Rohirrim to ease their guard.

He approached her cautiously, staying to her left side – the side nearest her staff. If she were foolish enough to attempt a strike, he could disarm her in a matter of moments. Should the unlikely happen and she succeeded in felling him, she would be subdued or killed immediately. What harm could she do? After giving her a thorough once-over, he spoke up. "What business do you have here?" 

Angel turned to face authoritative voice to her left. She kept her body square with the man in front of her and remained aware of the men surrounding her. Her eyes fell on the tall and broad shouldered man speaking to her. He was, in her guess, roughly six feet in height. Long blonde hair trailed from under the helmet and intense brown eyes stared back at her. His armor and bearing certainly gave the impression that he was the commander of this group. "I'm merely walking. Is that a crime?"

Éomer's eyes narrowed at her arrogant tone. He looked her over again, noting more about her that he had not seen from his horse. She carried a leather wrapped walking staff decorated with metal studs in one hand. The top was tipped with a smooth round black stone. It was not nearly as tall as she was, her own height inches shorter than his. Her clothing, at first thought to be leather was not, at least none that he had seen so far. Her black cloak was thrown over her shoulders, partially covering a pack on her shoulder yet allowing every one else present to see her clearly - save for her face. The deep hood was still pulled over her head and obscured everything save for her nose, mouth and chin from view. "You go walking about bearing swords and knives strapped to yourself, without escort, and you cover yourself as if an assassin or ally of the dark. Answer my question woman."

She felt a lick of irritation burning in her throat at his demands. He could have asked nicely! A growl curled her lip as she looked at him, then flicked her eyes back to the men in front of her. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and centered herself, willing the annoyance away so that she could deal with these men rationally. Angel forced herself to remember that these were not the type of men she was used to dealing with and this was not her world. It would suit her better to stay out of trouble as much as possible. "I am trying to find a shelter in which I can pass the night." She nodded to the cluster of boulders she had been trying to reach. "Let me pass and be on my way." She shifted slowly and gripped her staff loosely in her left hand, her right still held up in surrender. One wrong move and she might end up skewered. But, by the same token she did not have time for this delay. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder to see if Kali stood nearby watching. 

Éomer raised one eyebrow and let out a breath. He nodded and the horsemen backed away, leaving him to face her. "We cannot allow you to continue alone. Strange men roam the lands and the danger is tenfold at night. I am not convinced you are not here for some ill purpose. To that end, you will remain in our keeping until I discover why you are truly here. Bring her." At his decision, two men slid down from their horses and started towards her.

Before he'd spoken the order, Angel knew what he would say. Shifting her stance, she flipped the bottom of the staff up towards his chin. He stepped back from her as the other two advanced on her. Stepping to her right, she swung the butt of her staff around, crushing it against the visor of the first man's helmet and knocking him onto his back. Following through with her momentum, she ducked under a sword and spun on the ball of her foot, the knobbed end of her staff swinging forcibly up between the second man's thighs. Rising and returning to her original form, Angel shifted her right hand to grip just above the rounded hilt-like grip as she turned to face the blonde man.

He'd seen the swiftness and precision of her attack, but was stunned that a woman could do such a thing. Granted, the women of Rohan did know how to wield a blade, but none with the likeness of what he had just seen. Her style and speed was reminiscent of the Elves. Grasping his own sword, he stepped forward to engage only to find himself at sword-point after a flash of silver had arced in the clear moonlight. Immediately he released his grip and raised his hands slowly to show he would not draw. It was difficult at best to draw a breath for the razor tip of her strange sword pressed into the soft underside of his chin. As they faced each other, he took careful stock of the situation. She was turned directly towards him, her position was that of a well-formed lunge with her left arm held straight behind her and a gloved hand still gripping the lower portion of her black staff. The remaining portion of the staff was gripped in her right hand, thrust straight ahead of her as she snarled up at him from her lunge position, the straight of the blade extending her reach another three feet to the underside of his chin where the tip now pressed ominously. He would never have guessed that a walking staff could have concealed a small sword. The remaining riders closed in upon seeing the imminent danger, their spear tips close enough to her to snag the fabric of her cloak.

"Call them off," she hissed, mouth curled in a feral snarl. "or you die." Her heart was hammering in her chest - not from the attack or defense, but from the pending possibility of having to kill this man. She hadn't wanted this to happen just yet, hadn't wanted a confrontation at all. But he wouldn't let her pass on her way. Stupid man. However, this close she could get a better look at him. It'd be a shame to kill such a handsome man. Shaking herself of that thought, she forced herself to remember that if the situations were reversed, he would not give a second thought to killing her. Angel scowled up at him, giving a little nudge of the tip at his throat to push her order. She heard the sharp hiss of pain and watched as he waived off the men holding spears on her, a thick droplet of blood oozing down the tip of her sword. It pained her to a small degree to have had to draw his blood, but it was necessary. Perhaps it could be forgiven in time. When she felt comfortable enough with their retreat, she pulled the sword away and slid it back into her staff, the wood meeting the steel hilt with a solid thump. Righting herself, she nodded and took a deep breath. "Now, I will be on my way."

Éomer frowned and snapped his gloved fingers. The men pressed in again, drawing the woman back at spear point. "I do not think so." He rubbed the underside of his chin, the sting melting into a soft throb. If she drew blood, there would be an answering for it later. "My words stand as before - you will come with us." He walked around, stopping in front of her as he placed the helmet back on his head and glared down at her. She lifted her hooded head, the fabric slithering back on her head enough to see her eyes as she met his gaze with an equal steel and defiant glare. Without a word he reached out and took the staff from her hands, handing it off to one of the men that was recouping from her attack. He then reached down and removed the swords from her waist and the dagger from her thigh. "Bind her hands," he said, voice firm as he jerked the pack from her left shoulder.

Angel felt two men clap hold of her shoulders and arms. A guttural growl escaped her lips as she watched him mount his horse and look down at her. She felt the leather bindings tied around her wrists before she was turned around and lifted up to him. He held her in front of him, trapped by his arms as he reached out and grasped the reins of his horse. Blind anger washed over her at this new predicament and she lashed out, twisting her body as she jerked her right elbow into his chest. Immediately a jarring pain spread through her arm and she clenched her teeth together to stifle the hiss of pain. She'd hit her funny bone and now her fingers were alternating between numb and tingling in pain.

Éomer chuckled silently to himself as he watched her curl over slightly. He'd felt the light thump in his lower chest. The blow had been deflected by his armor, thankfully. After witnessing her prowess at fighting moments before, he had no doubt that if he'd been unprotected he'd be gasping for breath right now. He kicked his horse gently and moved out ahead of the Rohirrim, Edoras and the Golden Hall their destination. If they rode hard and did not stop, they would reach home before the dawn broke upon them.


End file.
